


Play Dates

by Imagining_in_the_Margins



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Dating, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Idiots in Love, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Spencer Reid, Pining, Romantic Fluff, Self-Insert, Spencer Reid Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28225521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagining_in_the_Margins/pseuds/Imagining_in_the_Margins
Summary: Reader finds out Spencer hasn’t had enough dates to play Best/Worst Date with the team and offers several Play Dates, but quickly realizes it’s hard to have a bad date with Spencer Reid.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 110





	Play Dates

Every single friend knows that the easiest way to feel bad about yourself is to put yourself in a conversation with a bunch of happily-coupled people. It’s the perfect blow to the ego every single time.

For example, when you are sitting around a table with all of your work colleagues sharing terrible pizza, do not, under any circumstances, ask them about their dating stories. Because no matter how interesting you think your dating life might be, the stories always end the same for the single friend.

_‘It didn’t work out_.’

Your friends, though, will always have the funny stories. The kind with happy endings. Not you, though. You’re just sad and alone.

Okay, that’s a little bleak. Truthfully, it was fun listening to my coworkers talk about their best, worst, and favorite dates with their partners or spouses. As members of the BAU, they had no shortage of stories about bad timing; it was practically a job requirement. And they seemed entertained enough by my horror stories. Out of all of us, I actually think I talked the most, which was strange, because there was someone else present at the table who normally took on that role.

“What about you, Reid?” I finally gathered the courage to ask, hoping that he might give me an excuse to not further embarrass myself.

But the boy wonder seemed to be a million miles away, and when he heard his name, he only barely registered I was talking to him at all.

“Hm? What about me?” he asked, absently stirring more sugar in his mug.

“Best, worst, and favorite date?”

“I don’t think I really have any,” he admitted with a shrug. It was the kind of dismissal that hid a mountain of insecurities. I know because it was precisely the same one that I had given several times during the conversation.

“Were they all really that boring?” I pushed, trying to find something, anything, for him to talk about.

“No, just... nonexistent,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

Thankfully for the two of us, awkward and slightly stupid for having taken part of this conversation at all, Luke chimed in just in time. “I’m telling you, man, you just gotta stop being so married to your job.”

JJ, however, had her own brand of advice.

“Or... you could find someone in it. Here.”

Reid shifted uncomfortably, his throat clearing and his hands shaking ever so slightly as he brought his mug to his lips. He was buying time to come up with some excuse. I didn’t blame him. After all, if we were talking about inter-bureau dating, there was only one other single person in the room.

“I think the selection pool here is a little scarce,” he explained.

But then I realized something. _There was only one other single person in the room_. A person with time to kill and fun company to be made. A person that I greatly enjoyed spending time with, and a person that I could have a happy ending with. Not necessarily falling in love and having babies and all that — just a friend. A friend who’d never had an experience with something that I carried only tainted memories of.

Reid and I were the only two single people in the room, and he couldn’t play the game. _Yet_. 

“I’ll do it!” I blurted out into the group that had already breached another topic of conversation.

Reid turned to me with a look of pure confusion, his hands hugging the cup closer to his heart as he replied, “… W-What?”

One glance around the room revealed that everyone else had a similar thought. Of course, I realized then that they couldn’t actually read my mind or hear the thoughts I’d been pondering over.

“Oh, calm down everyone,” I mumbled, sinking into my chair in defeat for just a second before I forced my back straight again. Reid was still watching me when I continued, “I just meant that we could go on practice dates like... test runs.”

They were all still staring at me. So, naturally, I deflected with a bit of a joke.

“A play date, if you will,” I announced with a wave of my hand in Reid’s direction. Even if it hadn’t worked, it would have been worth his tiny little smile that he quickly hid with a pout. But of course it had worked, because it was hilarious.

“Oooh, that was clever!” Emily excitedly interjected.

“Thank you.”

While everyone else seemed to accept my explanation, Reid was still stuck in place. I could practically hear his heartbeat through the pulse in his now very red neck. Part of me felt a little guilty to do it in front of everyone, but in my defense, I simply hadn’t thought about it longer than it’d taken me to say it.

“Why would you want to go on dates with me?” he asked, and I realized he had also needed to work up the courage.

“Because it would be fun,” I answered nonchalantly before letting a devilish grin grace my lips, “I get to torture you with at least one intentionally terrible date.”

And in true BAU fashion, I had forgotten that the rest of the group was as equally sadistic as me when it came to teasing. Luke did not miss the chance of a lifetime when he interjected again.

“As opposed to the normal, unintentionally horrible ones.”

But I was ready this time. “Shut up, Alvez. I’ll kill you,” I threatened, quickly pointing the plastic butter knife in his direction only to find he was already halfway out the door. 

“Fine,” he sang, “We’ll leave you two alone to plan your _date_.”

It only took seconds for the rest of the room to clear, leaving a mortified Reid and a deeply regretful me alone together. Well, ‘regretful’ sounds mean. It wasn’t like I wished I hadn’t said it, I just wished that I hadn’t said it in front of the rest of the team, who would now be expecting a story from both of us.

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” I offered to the man now rocking back and forth on his feet and tapping his finger against the mug.

“It’s fine. I’m not uncomfortable,” he blatantly lied.

“You’re bright red.”

Reid cleared his throat and averted his eyes in two of his most obvious tells. Then, just to be sure that I knew for a fact he was lying, his voice jumped an octave as he squeaked, “I said I’m not uncomfortable.”

“Okay, well…” If he was going to be like that, it just made me feel bad. Like I was forcing him to hang out with me. _God_ , I was lonely. And pathetic on top of that, if the only way I could get someone to hang out with me outside of work was to bully my coworker into it. I stood with a sigh, passing by him with a forlorn smile as I told him, “You can just forget it if you want.”

But then he finally moved, his arm shooting out and grabbing hold of mine before either of us moved another inch. “Hey, wait!” he called as if the grip wasn’t enough. Just as quickly as he’d gripped me, he released me again. With small, forceful bursts of breath, his tongue tied in his mouth for a moment longer. Then, in the quiet of the conference room, he mumbled back a familiarly pathetic response.

“... What kind of ‘ _play dates_ ’ are you considering?”

My eyes lit up as I replied, “They’d be a surprise.”

“Even the bad ones?” Reid winced, which earned the first laugh from me. The tension and the awkwardness melted into the sound, and soon enough it felt just like it always did when we were together.

Comfortable. Fun. Safe.

“Yep,” I said with a pop of my lips, “Are you up for the challenge?”

“I feel like I’m going to regret my answer either way,” he teased.

I took a moment to analyze the space between us. I saw the way his hand that had touched me twitched softly at his side, seeking something else to hold. I felt the tingling of my skin where he had been and heard the rush of blood and the rhythmic metronomes of our hearts as ambient noise.

“All in or fold,” I sang along to the beat, “It’s up to you.”

“Fine. But only because you used a poker metaphor, and you’re terrible at poker,” Reid laughed, “I can _definitely_ beat you at that.”

Already having forgotten about the dates and the dares and the desire, I scoffed, “Only because you count cards, jackass!”

Reid, however, was positively beaming as he passed me. Any sign of nerves had left him and been replaced with an uncharacteristic confidence. Like he’d seen something in that moment that told him everything would work out in his favor. I don’t think it was the poker metaphor, either.

“Let me know when it’s time for our date!” he called from the other side of the door, fleeing before we could change our minds.

“I hate you!” I blatantly lied.

—

Fairy lights, bed sheets, and a laptop that definitely posed a fire hazard were all the ingredients for the first date night with Spencer Reid. I decided that, no matter how excited I was to take him on an absolutely ridiculously terrible date, it was better to ease him into the experience. Because I mean, most men that dated me ended up leaving even when I meant for them to be good.

And I was nervous. I hated that I was nervous and that I felt like my reputation or my friendship was on the line. This was nothing but a social experiment; a fun way to pass the time. So why did my heart skip a beat when I heard him knocking on my door? Why did I bolt over to it so fast that I almost couldn’t stop in time?

When I opened the door, my heart didn’t change its tune in the slightest. It stubbornly continued the hard, irregular pounding, even as he stepped into my apartment with wide eyes and a goofy grin.

“Oh... wow. What’s all of this?” he asked as if it wasn’t obvious.

“What does it look like?”

Spencer took a minute to fully take in his surroundings before sharing his astute observation. “Pizza and a pillow fort.”

“You hit the nail right on the head,” I chuckled right before the room went quiet. It wasn’t exactly awkward; it was more strange than anything, feeling so comfortable standing in silence with him in my apartment. The only thing I wasn’t really sure of was the social rule for touching him.

If he had been anyone else, I would have wrapped my arm around his and dragged him into the fort in no time at all. But he was… Reid. I couldn’t do that with him. So, we ended up just standing there in the ambient light until he got the courage to ask what he’d clearly been thinking since he walked through the door.

“... you know I can’t fit in there, right? It’s less than half my height.”

I was prepared, having anticipated his rebuttal. Putting my hands up and pointing my fingers like our service weapons, I used the most serious voice I could muster to order, “Then you’d better get down on the ground, Doctor.”

After his third slow blink, I figured he might need some help.

“Get down!” I shouted again, this time through laughter.

“Oh, you’re serious?”

“Would I break out the big guns if I wasn’t?” I asked, prodding him in the side with my two index fingers until he’d finally started to laugh back. I kept going, encouraged by the sound and the knowledge that he was, in fact, ticklish.

“I honestly have no idea,” he answered as he finally dropped down on to the ground.

I took a minute to follow, watching as he nearly slipped on the sheets a total of three times in the five feet of distance. I decided then that the sight of the tall, gangly idiot trying to climb into the pastel assortment was honestly enough for me to count the date as a success.

I figured that he would probably need more convincing, and so for approximately three hours, we watched whatever he wanted. I had sort of expected at least one romantic movie— a foreign one, of course— but that never happened. Instead, we watched a collection of lectures and black and white shorts.

I had more fun than I would ever admit to him. However, I also was already planning on a future date where we would watch everything that _I_ wanted to, which would certainly change the way he viewed me forever. The thought brought me an unimaginable joy all the way up until I realized that I had been planning a date that was never going to happen.

This was, I reminded myself, a one-time thing. Well, a three-time thing. Three dates, three plans, and it would be over. I’d already mapped everything out, so there was no need to plan for any other future with Reid.

So why did I want to?

There were limited opportunities to distract myself in the current situation. The only things, in fact, were a speech on black holes and Reid’s very adorable stomach. He hadn’t even noticed the way his shirt had ridden up as he laid on his side propped up on one arm.

I couldn’t be blamed for my weakness. It was too cute not to touch it. As soon as I did, however, the poor guy almost brought the whole fort crashing down on top of us.

“Stop!” he whined much too loudly for the proximity, “You know I’m ticklish!”

“I do?” Despite his belief, the information was new to me. And now that I had that information, I was going to use it.

“So you’re saying that if I just... do this—”

He recognized his mistake approximately three seconds too late. I was already on the move, throwing myself in his direction with my hands sneaking up his shirt. I hadn’t thought of it until then, that I’d never really heard him laugh. He’d chuckle every now and then, but usually it was short-lived and sort of solemn. But not that time.

There, on a date with me in a poorly constructed pillow fort that was already toppling over, Spencer and I were absolutely lost in a sea of sheets and giggles. At some point, his hands had also found their way to my sides in the mess. The soft, quick rhythm of his fingertips against me didn’t only tickle, it caused a brand new emotion to spark inside me.

That emotion, I realized quickly, was a far more dangerous one.

“Okay, okay!” I shouted, pushing myself away from him and digging my way out of the sheets, “I surrender! You win!”

When he poked his head out from under the sheets, I couldn’t help but laugh at the bird’s nest that had formed on his head in the struggle. While I was busy laughing, that bastard was playing dirty, sneaking his hand through the sheets to grab my thigh when I least expected it.

“Hey!” I shrieked, bursting into another fit of giggles.

Reid just shot a toothy grin, and that worrying feeling of butterflies and danger filled my heart again at the sight.

“It’s not fair, you know,” I said through a pout, “Your hands are bigger than mine.”

I’d apparently forgotten about his competitive side, and a part of me was glad that I had. If I had known he was going to take it so seriously, I might have never started the tickle war in the first place. Then where would we be, if it wasn’t tangled together in bedsheets, reaching through the darkness to find one another?

_Oh no_ , I thought as I realized where we were. Reid seemed none the wiser at what a precarious position we were in. He was too busy gloating.

“I won fair and square, and you know it.”

When I rolled my eyes in response, he pressed forward in his mission to torment me as a result of my surrender.

“What do I get for winning?”

I considered all the different ways I could answer. I thought about what I would do if he was anyone else in this position with me, but my mind went blank. Because the truth was, I couldn’t imagine being there, feeling that way, with anyone else but him. Then the problem became the second train of thought, which were the things I _really_ wanted to say to him.

I was taking too long to answer, and he was waiting with that gentle smile and his hand still resting against the bare skin of my thigh.

“One wish. Anything you want. I’ll make it happen.” I decided that answer was safe enough. At least then whatever he decided would be his decision and not mine. If anything went wrong, he would be the one to blame. Although, in my heart, I knew that I could never hold a grudge against him.

There was a certain innocence about the way he scrunched his face in thought. I don’t think he even noticed the way he tapped his fingers against my leg or the quiet hum that filled the air.

“How about…” he whispered when he finally spoke with a cheeky little grin, “sleeping in a real bed?”

“Oh, thank god. I can’t feel my legs,” I muttered back, beginning the arduous process of freeing us both from the wreckage.

If it had been anyone else, I would’ve taken the suggestion differently. For sure, I would have taken it as a promiscuous proposition and probably kicked the guy out. But there was no way that Reid would mean something so lewd. Especially not on our ‘first date.’

Any lingering concern for that unlikely, but possible, timeline was quickly remedied when he dropped into the bed with me, pulling a pillow between the two of us to form a barrier. I didn’t mind. I sort of appreciated the gesture, despite the way my eyes kept roaming back down to the sight of his hands that had been touching me moments before.

I wondered if he wanted to cuddle, but I was too scared to ask.

“Well, Dr. Re—” I paused. After a few seconds ticked by, I tried a new name, instead, “Spencer.”

A dopey smile crept over his features that he tried to hide by biting down on his lip.

“Well, what?” he whispered back.

Shimmying closer to him, I tried to stop myself from getting excited at the way my heart beat harder when his arm around the pillow brushed up against my own. It was impossible to tell if it was only in my mind, but I swore he moved closer, too.

“Here we are,” I sighed happily, “You’ve managed to get me in bed with you on the first date.”

The innuendo was, only a little surprisingly, not lost on him. He clearly took it as more of a tease than I’d intended, but he managed to keep up the lighthearted tone.

“Funny. I’m pretty sure this isn’t what that means,” he responded.

“No?”

“Pretty sure.”

The both of us were laughing again, and my legs started to sweep through the sheets like magnets to metal. They didn’t stop until I’d found him. My toes pressed against the fabric of his mismatched socks he’d insisted on wearing, and that only made me laugh more.

“This is nice, too, though.”

I hadn’t realized I’d said it out loud until Spencer had already responded, “Yeah, it is.”

Together, we soaked in the moment and the little body heat available in the two points of contact. The footsie under the covers wasn’t in my original plan for this date, but I was willing to be flexible. Especially when he seemed so happy about it, his eyes bouncing back and forth from the pillow back to my eyes.

“Better enjoy it while it lasts, Spencer,” I slurred sleepily, “Considering next is gonna be the worst date.”

His response wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t even the words that surprised me. It was the fact he was so undeniably genuine when he answered, “Oh, I can’t wait.”

Convinced that he’d misjudging my level of cruelty, I moved closer when I dramatically opined, “You’re gonna _hate_ it.”

“I think it’ll be alright,” he murmured shyly, the words barely recognizable from the way he buried his face halfway into the pillow, “It can’t be that bad if you’re there.”

Then I watched as the idea hit him, his head shooting up from the pillow and his hand reaching out to grab my arm in sheer panic as he asked, “Wait— you are going to be there, right?”

It was mean to laugh at his imagined horror, but there was simply no way I would be _that_ cruel. “It would be cheating if I stood you up!” I pointed out, bringing my hand up to my chest in my own dramatic flair, “I’ve got to make it terrible by sheer force of will, not by shortcuts.”

“Good luck, then. You’re going to need it,” Spencer replied with a playful glimmer in his eyes. He wouldn’t let me forget his competitive side anymore, but he wasn’t the only one that liked to win.

“Game on.”

—

The air was tense but crisp with autumn coolness. Almost every muscle I could see on Spencer was tensed, and even with the chill, I swore I saw a bead of sweat on his brow.

“Okay. I believe in you. Do you trust me?” I asked, bringing my hands together in a loud clap that was meant to distract him. It only sort of worked, with the tension leaving him to nearly collapse in a mess of self-pity.

“Not really,” he answered honestly.

“Come on, Spencer! You trust me not to get you shot on a daily basis!”

Unfortunately, even my whines weren’t working, and Spencer abandoned his cause altogether as he turned to me with a cold seriousness and said, “These stakes are much higher.”

I turned to him, then back to the toy crocodile in a fake pond that led to a miniature lighthouse. I gave him a deep sigh and what I’d hoped would be a reassuring pat on the back, but it really just seemed to make him even more nervous.

“Spencer, it’s mini golf,” I deadpanned, “The only people who can witness your humiliation are 12.”

“12 year olds are very mean,” he started before I swiftly cut him off with a much louder, “Just swing!”

To his credit, he did. And he missed.

I couldn’t contain the laughter anymore. We all have a breaking point, and mine was watching him barely keeping hold of the putter that almost slipped from his hand with the force he applied.

His cheeks were bright red and puffed as he turned to me while simultaneously managing to avoid eye contact.

“Why would they take golf, which is already hard, and make it smaller?” he whined. If he was looking for sympathy, he found none. The only tears I shed were from the giggles still pouring out of me.

Eventually, after a few more seconds of embarrassment, Spencer joined in with his awkward but genuine chuckles.

“It’s not fair! I’m further from the ground!” he tried to argue.

When all that earned him was a wheezed, “You’re so _stupid_ ,” he tried again. With his arm extended with the offending club in his hand, he flashed puppy dog eyes that honestly almost worked.

“Can you just hit it in for me?” he said through pouted lips.

It _almost_ worked, but not quite.

“No way.”

Spencer’s head and shoulders dropped in shame, displaying once again how terrible his posture really was. I let him sulk in peace for a moment, but then came up with a much more appealing idea.

“Here,” I sighed with a bold step forward.

Spencer watched me cautiously, his eyes narrowed and his body returning to its previously tense position. It was exactly what I’d expected him to do. That was yet another advantage I had. Because no matter how smart Spencer Reid was, I could tell from the way his breath hitched that he did not expect what came next.

Wrapping my arms around his body from behind, I gently placed my hands around his wrists that started to move into position. 

“Let me help you,” I whispered into his ear that was flushed red to match his cheeks.

And he did. Slowly, the tension left his muscles, and he became incredibly open to my guidance. Positioning him was how I might imagine it would be for a tall, skinny human sized doll. But once I had him where I wanted him, I let him go. It was harder to do than I’d care to admit. I would blame it on his body warmth being appealing on an autumn day, but that wasn’t the whole truth.

It was something about the way he turned back to look at me over his shoulder, almost like he also didn’t want me to let him go yet. But there were other matters at hand. Very, very serious matters in the shape of a terrifying clown colored gnome.

“It’s literally just a little bump. Don’t think so hard.”

I trusted him to be able to figure it out. It turned out to be a terrible decision. Really, I should have seen it coming. But I didn’t, even when the putter swung back and smashed directly into my shin, all I saw was a very panicked and horrified Spencer trying to catch me before I fell.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” he shouted as he grabbed me despite the fact that I still had both feet on the ground. In his defense, I was doubled over— laughing.

“How are you _so bad_ at this?!” I screeched between breaths.

“My intelligence isn’t the kinesthetic kind,” he responded sheepishly. He was trying— poorly— to hide his laughter at my suffering, but we both knew that he was grateful that I was now as miserable as him.

It was true. I was as miserable as him, which was to say that I wasn’t miserable at all. Not even a little bit.

“Are you okay?” he finally asked, his hands running down my arms as we steadied ourselves back on the cheap fake grass.

“Yeah. I’m good.” _Great, actually_. “Let’s try again.”

History repeated itself for another few hours. Spencer’s clumsiness never really seemed to improve, but after about the fifth missed swing, the embarrassment and anxiety faded into a comfortable fit of laughter-laden tears.

Then, exactly as I predicted, once the fears faded into fun, Spencer found his stride. All it took was one soft swing, one final thud of the ball actually colliding with the putter before it happened. Whether it was by luck or physics, it didn’t matter. All I cared about was the fact that he’d _actually_ gotten a hole in one.

“You did it!” I shouted in a disbelief that would have been insulting if it wasn’t actually a surprise to every human being on the course.

“I did it!” he yelled back with a remarkably similar tone. But that wasn’t even the most exciting part about it. No, that honor was reserved for the wide-eyed, full faced grin that appeared on his face as he turned back to me just in time.

With all the enthusiasm in the world, I practically threw myself at Spencer. Surprisingly, he caught me, tossing the club to the side and wrapping his arms around me with a fervor I’d never expected from him.

I’d always thought he would hate surprise physical contact; I did my best to avoid it whenever I could. But this time, as the two of us stumbled and spun around on the mini golf course and only barely missed the obstacles scattered along the path, I didn’t even try to stop myself.

I kissed him. I don’t know why, but I did. The same could be said for when he kissed me back. In a way, it was the most honest I think we’d ever been. There was nothing to hide, having already shown all of our failures in the most humiliating way possible. All that was left was the unadulterated joy that came from being together.

He kissed me back, his hands tightening around me and trying to drag out the moment for as long as we could. I don’t know exactly when we broke apart, but I knew it hadn’t happened when it realistically should have.

We stayed together even when he ran straight into the mini fencing running around the course. Even when we started to laugh and scream, our bodies falling gracelessly over the edge and straight into a very shallow and very brown lake.

Wet and shrieking with something between a laugh and an actual scream, the two of us floundered in the makeshift lake without even bothering to notice the onlookers.

“Holy shit, it’s freezing!” I yelled when I finally found the breath.

“It’s September!” he so helpfully pointed out, wiping algae and dirt from his face that I’d just kissed.

I couldn’t stand it. It was just too cute, too messy, too perfect to continue. So, with a very enthusiastic hand, I splashed him with the disgusting stale water again.

“Stop that!” he whined only to do the same thing back to me seconds later.

As one would expect of two competitive dorks, the whole situation quickly devolved into a battle of splashes and screams that was only put to an end by a _very_ angry and underpaid security guard ordering us to.

For the record, I got the last splash. Spencer would disagree, but he would be wrong. Which is the same energy I carried with us into the closest possible store. They surprisingly did not object to the two FBI agents clad in soaking wet clothes and dirt. I think it had less to do with the FBI part and more to do with the fact the poor teenagers working at the Walmart just didn’t care why we were there. They just wanted us to leave as quickly as possible.

Which, we did, because almost immediately after making it to the men’s clothing section, I’d found everything I needed. Spencer must have seen the plan unfolding before him, because he tried, and failed, to grab hold of me before I sprinted off in the direction of _the_ ugliest sweatshirt and sweatpants combo I have ever seen on this planet.

“Oh my god,” I gasped, pulling it off the shelf and turning to the exhausted but equally excited man behind me that was already shaking his head.

“I’m buying you this,” I stated definitively.

“Absolutely not,” he tried to argue. He tried. But I was already gone, running towards the cash register with giant, hideous sweats.

“Too late!”

I knew then, from the way he smiled as he chased after me with another matching set of the sweats, that Spencer wouldn’t fight me too hard. In fact, he didn’t fight me at all. The two of us awkwardly swaddled ourselves in our new matching outfits in a public bathroom, and I wondered how the hell we would explain this to the team.

Because that was the point of this, right?

Right.

Staring at myself in the mirror while trying to comb through dirty hair with my fingers, I started to lose my smile at the thought. This was just a fun day between friends. It was an experiment. It was nothing, just two friends trying to find a story to tell.

I guess we’d found one. And it wasn’t over yet. It continued as we did an impromptu fashion show in the parking lot before sopping up the mess we’d made with cheap, shitty towels. To my surprise, the germophobe didn’t even want to head straight home to shower and change. Instead, he insisted we take the time to stop and get ice cream.

Who was I to say no? I mean, I guess I should have, considering this was obviously meant to be the worst date. But I figured that eating ice cream while covered in lake sludge wasn’t all that much better than not getting any at all.

So that’s how Spencer and I ended up sitting in his car in my driveway, sloppily eating a frozen treat on a freezing night while still damp.

“Well, Spencer, this was a disaster,” I eloquently stated with a full mouth.

“Yeah, a little bit,” he answered. But no matter how much I wanted to believe that I had succeeded in my efforts, I couldn’t believe him. Not with that big, dumb smile dimpling his cheeks and squishing his eyes.

“I guess I delivered on my promise of worst date ever, huh?” I tried, nonetheless.

Then, with a low, sneaky voice, he whispered, “Only time will tell.”

It was just silly enough to dispel that elusive sadness I’d felt since I remembered this was all just a game. Because the truth was, it didn’t matter why we were doing this. I just wanted to enjoy it while it was still here, clad in ugly sweatsuits and filled with ice cream.

“At least we got souvenirs,” I giggled, gesturing to the offensive clothing. 

“And lifetime bans from Putt-Putt Planet,” he added.

“You’re welcome for that one.”

As our laughter died down, Spencer’s eyes remained fixed on my smile. I tried to will it away, to dull the shine I felt overflowing from my heart so that he wouldn’t see just how happy I really was. But even with the most herculean efforts, it remained, only dropping when my jaw dropped open in a light gasp at his touch.

His hand came up to my face, cupping it gently and turning it to him. I couldn’t understand why, my cheeks burning under his palms as my brain was too busy short-circuiting to try to come up with a question.

But then it was unnecessary, anyway, with Spencer’s thumb wiping whipped cream that had somehow managed to land on my nose. I’m sure he could feel the way the blood continued to rush to my face. The heat was so unbearable I had to close my eyes and turn away, wiping at the nothingness that remained as I immediately missed his touch.

“J-Just one more date, huh?” I mumbled.

He accepted my attempt at a distraction from the undoubtedly intimate act, and just shrugged as he asked, “Do you know what you want to do?”

“Yeah,” I admitted, biting on my tongue to stop words that came anyway, “It’s a surprise.”

“Does it involve any more golf?” he asked peculiarly through a smile so soft it almost made my heart stop.

“No, no more golf,” I answered with a small shake of my head.

“But you’ll be there?”

The easy, lighthearted laughs returned, sealing my fate and realization that I think I might have made a mistake.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” I replied.

“Then it sounds wonderful,” Spencer said with a look in his eye that made me want to believe that I wasn’t alone. I clung to that feeling, that admiration and humor and… love.

It was love.

“Okay well... Goodnight, Spencer,” I whispered before either of us could question it again. But even when my panic and dread started to set in, all I could find in the reflection of his eyes was a solemn understanding that we could still enjoy what little time we had left.

“Goodnight,” he whispered back, “Sweet dreams.”

—

By the time the last date night came, I realized that I never could’ve been ready for it. It was unfortunate timing, really, because I had tried to save the best for last. This was meant to be the best date for Spencer. It was tailored specifically to his interests, and I had planned every step to be as comfortable as possible for him.

But I still couldn’t shake the nerves or the sadness that threatened to overtake everything else, and so I was very grateful that the first part of the date included a relatively lengthy car ride that demanded the man in question wear a blindfold.

It was meant to just distract him from figuring out where we were going, but I could tell from that stupid, smug grin on his face that he was still keeping track. And sure enough, after about thirty minutes of driving, he cleared his throat.

“Okay... I don’t want to ruin the mood but... I know where you’re taking me.”

I waited a second, hoping to call his bluff just to glance over and see that even with his blindfold on, he looked undeniably confident in his conclusion.

“How could you possibly know that?” I dared to ask.

“I’ve been keeping track of turns and time and I can tell how fast we’re going by the strength of the brake. Can I take off the blindfold now?”

Again, I paused, too apathetic at the result to even roll my eyes. Instead, I just sighed, “Fine. Take it off.”

But the apathy was quickly dispelled, replaced with the familiar fluttering of butterflies in my stomach as he practically squealed with glee, tearing off the little piece of cloth and leaning over the center console as he quickly asked, “Are you really taking me to the Poe Shadow Puppet Theater?”

All he got in response was, “I’m so annoyed with you.”

That was enough for him to confirm his suspicions, and before I could stop him, he’d started spouting the usual factoids about the show. I say that like I would have ever stopped him, but even if I had a reason to, I wouldn’t have. After all, there was nothing in the world that was more heartwarming than Spencer Reid talking about the things he loves.

I didn’t get a break from that point on, and by the time the show started, I thought my heart would surely burst at the way his voice danced along the octaves while he narrated the past, present, and future of the presentation.

I tried to come up with questions throughout it all, or at least a comment to prove that I was still there in the moment. But it was so hard. It was an impossible task, really. I didn’t know how I was meant to make this any better than it already was. I just wanted to ride the wave of joy with him.

So when his hand took mine, I didn’t fight it. I don’t even think he noticed he’d done it, but neither of us were going to take it back. It was just another way for him to communicate, to share everything he was feeling while he continued to whisper into my ear.

For a second, I almost even forgot that this was all meant to be for him. Because I was, without a doubt, having the best time of my life. Between his breath tickling my neck to his insistence on pulling me closer despite the armrest between us, I never wanted the show to be over.

But like all good things, it had to come to an end eventually. In a way, it felt like fate had stretched time a little bit for us. It still wasn’t enough for me, though. So I forced the slowest possible pace I could, clinging desperately to Spencer’s hand that still remained intertwined with mine.

“So... final thoughts?” I asked when the car had finally started to come into view, hoping that we could drag it out just a little bit longer.

“What do you mean?”

“Final answers,” I vaguely and poorly explained, “To the question that started this.”

Spencer’s feet came to a stop, his hand falling away from mine and making me regret yet another thing about my words. “Oh... right,” he choked, laughing a little to cover the sound.

Both of our hands returned to their respective pockets, then. It wasn’t even close to the same. Still, I was determined to end the night on a high note, so I bumped into him until the two of us were resting against the hood of the car. Together, we stared off into the bustling cityscape in a quiet that wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the previous dates.

“Let’s start with best date,” I offered, trying to bring back the energy that had gotten us so far.

“Night in,” he replied without even a millisecond of hesitation.

“Okay. I’ll take it,” I chuckled. It wasn’t what I’d planned, but I couldn’t argue with him about it. I had also enjoyed tickling the life out of him in a poorly constructed pillow fort. “Next one is favorite date.” 

This time, Spencer couldn’t keep a straight face. Before he’d even said it, he was already laughing, leaning on me like a large golden retriever trying to earn himself some pets.

“Mini golf,” he said with the widest smile I’d seen from him yet.

Again, I tried to call his bluff. With a blank stare and an incredulous gasp, I shook my head in disbelief that grew with every second that passed. He was still smiling.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

“Nope,” he said with a pop of his lips.

“Spencer, you hit me with a club and we fell in a lake,” I deadpanned, conveniently leaving off what else had happened in the lake. I didn’t have to say it to see it in his eyes, though. That same loving look that had blindsided me in the car when he’d gingerly cleaned my face.

“Final answer,” he stubbornly persisted. 

“Fine,” I huffed, crossing my arms and leaning against him just as hard as he had earlier. We both shook with his clever little giggles, but we didn’t stop even when we almost fell over.

I could be stubborn, too, pressing forward with my line of questioning with so much determination that I forgot to stop and think about what it meant.

“So that leaves the worst date, which would be…”

My voice fell away immediately at the realization, my throat closing in on itself as I tried to step away. I tried to make distance, but Spencer’s hand around my waist stopped me, pulling me back to him with a trembling breath.

“It’s…” he started, terrified and quiet compared to the noise around us, “It’s this one.”

I couldn’t think of what to say. Hell, I couldn’t even think of what to do. My mind and body both seemed to have gone on strike, leaving me a mess in his hands while I tried to bite back my tears.

“Oh... I’m sorry,” I managed to get out without my voice breaking. The same couldn’t be said for the rest. “C-Can I ask why?”

All I could feel then was the way his hands drifted slowly up my arms, almost cupping my face but never actually making the contact. They hung there and I could see the battle raging on behind those big toffee eyes that reflected streetlights and love.

Finally, he gave his answer, taking any hope for my heart with it.

“Because it’s... the last one.”

It wasn’t a rejection. It wasn’t an answer at all. I wanted to call him out, to demand an answer to the real question that we both needed to be answered.

_Is this the end? Is this all we’re going to be?_

I knew he could see the fear in my face, and as he finally closed the gap between my face and his hands, I felt the comforting warmth of him seep into my skin and try to find its way to my heart that felt so frozen over after so many years of mistakes.

But this wasn’t one of those times. It just wasn’t.

And as my eyes opened to reveal the glassy surface of tears, Spencer shook his head in objection, trying not to laugh as he started to speak with the trepidation that resurfaced for the first time since the conference room.

“This past month has been the best month of my life. I didn’t even know it could be like this. I didn’t realize—“ Spencer’s voice cut out, his lungs filling and vacating all air in large bursts as he tried to force his tongue to cooperate with his heartfelt speech that felt like a hug and a heartbreak all at the same time.

“I just really need you to know how much I appreciate what you did for me,” he said, followed by a pathetic, muttered, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course,” I replied breathlessly, forcing the words forward before the ability to speak was completely robbed by the tears already spilling down my cheeks. “You’re welcome.”

Then, like a man on a mission to turn my heart to dust in his grasp, Spencer pulled me forward into one last devastatingly beautiful kiss. Unlike before, there was no lake water or laughter to get in the way. We were the only two people left on Earth, wrapped up in our own universe in the middle of a parking lot in a city that forced us to recognize that time soldiered on.

And that was just it. That was the moment when both of us threw caution to the wind, losing ourselves in the comfort of each other. Because, as it turned out, the world continued even when Spencer and I loved each other.

In fact, I think we both liked it better that way.

I said it was different from the minigolf course, but it wasn’t, really. We’d been just as in love then; we just didn’t have the time to stop and think about it. Once we had, however, it devolved into the same fit of laughter and messy love. Granted, it wasn’t all that much drier as we finally broke apart to wipe dramatic tears away.

The two of us looked at each other, realizing there was only one question left to answer.

“Hey, uh... do you...” he stopped, taking the time to sniffle and build the necessary confidence to take that last leap, “Do you maybe want to... go out with me sometime?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” I answered simply, letting the sad tears blend into happy laughter.

“Okay,” he laughed back, swallowing any residual anxiety and letting it be replaced with love, “It’s a date.”


End file.
